


Bad News

by champagne_cocaine_gasoline



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Death, Drug Use, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_cocaine_gasoline/pseuds/champagne_cocaine_gasoline
Summary: The new boy was bad news. Brendon knew that. Everybody knew that. But fuck, he was hot.





	1. Prologue of Testosterone

Brendon Urie was a good kid. He did his work. He was good to his friends. He loved his family. He played sports and he played fair. He was your classic high school sweetheart jock. Of course, he was closetedly gay, and until meeting Ryan Ross, thought he might stay that way forever.

It was Monday, Art, third period, when they first laid eyes on eachother. He was a late arrival, new to the school. And Brendon found quite quickly that he could not take his eyes off of him. Ryan was tall, lean, and drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous. Bright brown eyes and wavy, dark hair. He wore skinny jeans, high top boots and a white tank top with a leather jacket. Upon the closer inspection that came with this beautiful stranger taking the desk beside him, he learnt his name, and observed a piercing in his left ear, not to mention an assortment of other jewelry. Necklaces and thick rings that covered his long fingers. 

And his sketches were beautiful. His photography was stylistic and Brendon already felt himself drifting into dreamland before he heard Ryan’s voice. Deep and low, but quiet and insecure. Fuck. He was clearly a hipster of some kind. Or maybe punk. Punk rock. A mixture, perhaps. Brendon had absolutely no words to describe this boy other than ‘fucking perfect. fucking beautiful fucking angel boy.’

Brendon bit his lip as he observed the way Ryan held the pencil, grazing it over his sketch with both delicacy and accuracy. He knew he was staring. He couldn’t help it. Not one bit. But he knew, of course, there was no way that a boy this beautiful would be into dudes. Not that Brendon had ever even considered being with another guy. But when Ryan Ross caught his eye and did a small double take before letting his eyes wander over Brendon’s body, slow and careless to how painfully obvious it was that he was looking. It was clear that Brendon wanted him to know he was looking. He wanted him to see. 

Ryan’s eyes drifted back to meet Brendon’s before the corner of his mouth formed a small smirk, and he blinked, slowly, almost elegantly, before winking.

Brendon stared. He stared as Ryan turned back to his artwork. Holy shit.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Okay.


	2. Off the Bat

Brendon was red in the face as he turned back to his drawing. The picture looked like absolute shit after admiring Ryan’s work. Ryan. Even his name was hot. He shifted at his desk, hating the way his jeans had tightened at just the memory of Ryan winking at him. Brendon had no idea what that even meant. Was he teasing? Straight banter? He had no clue. But he was overwhelmed with gay-ass fucking thoughts and he was silently begging for them to go away. They did, eventually, and sitting became much more comfortable. He let out a heavy breath, regaining his confidence. He raised his head and looked across at Ryan.

“I’m Brendon,” He said, introducing himself.

Ryan smiled gently, setting his pencil down and taking off his glasses to look at him. “Ryan Ross.” He returned. “I just moved here with my Dad.”

Brendon nodded. “Oh, yeah. I heard there was someone new coming. Pretty sure you’re in my homeroom. Didn’t know it’d be so soon, though.”

“Yeah, me either, actually. We moved out here a little earlier than we originally planned.” Ryan explained. His voice. Wow. His voice was really something else. There was such an ease to it, it was comforting and peaceful, but fucking arousing at the same time.

“Where you from?” Brendon asked. He’d do anything just to listen to this guy talk forever.

Ryan turned a little in his desk to give Brendon his full attention. “Nevada. Really never thought my Dad would pick Utah, but here we are, I guess. It’s a good school, too. Great arts programs.”

“Oh, yeah,” Brendon agreed. “Not really my area, but it is good.”

“Not your area, huh?” Ryan asked, tilting his head and squinting his eyes with a hum. “Let me guess, then. Hm. Sport. Definitely sport.” 

Brendon laughed. “How’d you know?”

“Your build. Your style.” Ryan said, leaning back in the chair. “But you’re not built like a footballer. Basketball, right?”

Brendon looked at him, “Wow. I’m impressed.” He said.

“I’m impressive. Or so I’ve been told.” Ryan laughed.

Oh. You certainly are. 

Brendon pushed back the thoughts, offering a laugh. Ryan’s laugh was perfect. What else did this guy have? Looks? Style? Voice? Humour? He couldn’t get better, surely. “I bet you are. You’re cocky. Girls are gonna love you, that’s for sure.”

Ryan laughed at that, shaking his head. “Trying to keep out of the dating pool right now, actually.”

“Oh. How come?”

Ryan shrugged, not giving him much in response. “I’m not the best at relationships.”

“Me neither.” Brendon laughed. He’d never been in one. Assumed he never would. Mormon family, closeted gay, no reason to act on those urges. Until now.

“Yeah, you don’t look like the type.” The other boy laughed, leaning back in his chair.

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well. I mean... The way you were looking at me just now tells me that you’re both not into girls and too nervous to talk to dudes you like.”

“Shh!” Brendon hissed.

“Ahh. There. Never mind. I understand now. You’re closeted.” Ryan whispered, nodding slowly as he put his glasses back on and turned back to his drawing. 

Brendon looked away too. “It doesn’t matter.” He said quietly.

“Whatever you say. It’s your call.” Ryan hummed. There was silence. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either.

“So, what are you? You’re not bothered that I looked at you. But you’re not, like, asking me out, either.” Brendon asked after a moment. 

Ryan turned to him and took off his glasses. He let out a quiet laugh. “Firstly, I already told you I don’t date. Secondly, what makes you think I’m attracted to you?”

“You. Uhm. You winked at me.” Brendon said quietly.

“I could’ve been joking.” 

Brendon frowned. “Well, were you?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I’m interested.”

“You’re confusing me.” Brendon said, voice faltering slightly.

Ryan sighed, “I apologise. I didn’t mean to... Make you feel like I was interested.”

So he wasn’t interested. Brendon was confused. The guy seemed to know less about what he wanted than Brendon did. And that was saying something.

“Hey, just... Forget it. Right?” Ryan asked, slipping his glasses back over his nose. “I gotta finish this.”

Brendon nodded a little bit and turned back to his own work. “Yeah, okay.” He said. But now he didn’t feel so creative. He kept watching the way Ryan’s hands moved as he pushed the pencil across the paper. He didn’t hesitate with any of his movements. He was sure and confident. Brendon wished he was like that. In art and in life. 

He still didn’t get an answer, though. He didn’t know if Ryan was attracted to him. Or even attracted to dudes at all. A lot of this seemed uneasy, and he didn’t like it. Ryan was self assured, from what he could see. Cocky, to push it a little. He had definitely been with people before. Brendon sighed as he thought about what that might be like. And he wondered if he might experience that with Ryan. 

‘Come on, Brendon. You just fucking met the guy.’ He thought to himself. He sighed and shook his head. That’s right. Relax. Remember the ‘no relationship’ rule. Specifically, the ‘no gay relationship’ part. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t preferable. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t convienent. Wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t. But... It was something he wanted. And looking across at Ryan, watching the movement of his eyes, the soft lines of his face and the definition of his cheeks, he decided that he wanted at least to try it.


End file.
